


Drabbles

by wolfboiii



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holocaust, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Music, Panic Attacks, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfboiii/pseuds/wolfboiii
Summary: A collection of short HeavyMedic stories to warm your heart and soul.





	1. Music

It wasn’t uncommon to find the doctor absorbed to the point of absolute ignorance. Usually that was with some kind of unethical experiment, or his precious doves, or the ever gruelling stack of paperwork that lined his desk. But Heavy had never seen him so engrossed in his music.

Medic was sat in a well-worn armchair, his chin propped against his knuckles and his eyes open only a sliver. The low flames from the fireplace reflected in the bell of the gramophone, which sang one of the many violin classics that he so loved. Heavy could count the German composers he knew on one hand. Perhaps Anton Samitz, or Christian Cannabich. 

At any rate, Medic hadn’t noticed when Heavy entered much less when he had silently leaned against the doorframe to watch his doctor with a soft, amused smile. Medic’s slim legs were crossed at the knee, his suspended foot swaying gently to the music. Though he could hardly carry a tune, he softly hummed the melody along with the droning gramophone. The record was obviously well-loved, as Heavy figured it had at one point sounded a lot clearer, but Medic didn’t seem to mind. Maybe the Russian would buy him a new one for Smissmas.

The song eventually came to an end, and Medic heaved a content sigh, closing his eyes all the way and smiling ever-so-slightly against his hand. Heavy uncrossed his arms and made his way across the room, the thump of his approaching footsteps finally stirring the doctor back from his distracted thoughts. Large hands delicately placed the needle back to the beginning of the record, and as the notes began again, one extended out to Medic. 

“Dance with me, Doktor?”

Medic simply grinned.


	2. Feeding Birds

It was a treat to watch Medic with his birds. It seemed the old German was at the peak of his youth when surrounded by his loyal feathered friends. Heavy loved to see him smile like that.

“Here, here, hold your hands out like zhis,” Medic demonstrated, then sprinkled a hearty amount of bird seed into Heavy’s open palms. “Zhey’ll come over, don’t vorry!” The doctor was insistent on getting the doves to show the giant some love. So far, the only one comfortable enough to give any was Archimedes. After making a nest out of a person’s guts, there was a sort of bond.

“Doktor, is okay,” Heavy felt Archimedes peck gently at his ear, and turned his head to give his tiny head a kiss. “Am big, they are scared. Am used to it.” 

Medic was not having it.

“Nein,” he waved the notion away with his hand, then rubbed his chin in thought. A click of the fingers later, he grinned at Heavy. “You can whistle, ja?”

“Da, a bit.”

Medic flourished his hand once more, an indication for the Russian to try it. Hesitant, Heavy gave a test whistle, and saw some of the doves perk their heads towards him. Now encouraged, he kept going. One of them fluttered over, then another. Once closer, they noticed the food and began enjoying it. Their coos of approval attracted others, and it didn’t take long for almost every dove to make their way over.

“Zhere ve are!” Medic laughed, running the back of his knuckles down the back of the closest bird. Heavy grinned as well, his rumbling chuckle barely distracting the hungry doves.

“Are good birdies,” he commented, watching Medic fawn over his tiny friends. Bird seed was a treat to the doves, but Heavy’s treat? 

Seeing Medic happy.


	3. Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheeky sniperspy drabble

The hush of a desert night was something he had grown to love. During the day, he would park his trusty van up at the base to keep an eye on it. But after the sun finally dipped below the horizon, he would drive out just slightly, to where the base was just out of sight, and find a spot to stop amongst the sand. He liked to be alone. He preferred it.

So when he heard the faint creak of the door hinges, he was less than pleased.

Sniper couldn’t see who had entered, and he nearly growled out loud, his fingers tightening on the kukri under his mattress. But when he caught sight of the crisp glow of a lit cigarette, he relaxed.

“Bloody hell, mate, you scared me,” the Australian yawned, patting the side of his bed as an invitation. Spy chuckled.

“Apologies,” he tapped the end of his cigarette against a nearby ashtray, then snubbed it out entirely. Sniper’s invitation was wordlessly accepted as he climbed up to lay beside the other man. Sniper wrapped his arms loosely around Spy’s thin waist, nuzzling his face into the top of his head and happy to find the infamous balaclava had been discarded for the night. Soft hair met his chin, and he planted a kiss on top of it. He hooked a leg around one of the Frenchman’s, pulling him close to his chest.

Spy hummed under his breath, pressing his forehead to the bushman’s collarbone. Ungloved hands wandered, one snaking to lay against Sniper’s side, and the other one moving up to briefly rub a thumb over his cheek.

It didn’t take long for the perpetually tired Australian to fall back asleep. He tended to sprawl in his sleep, and no doubt they would end up untangled by morning, but Spy was content to enjoy it for now.


	4. Icy Days

“Have you ever thought about having children?” 

The question surprised Heavy. He slipped his reading glasses from his nose to glance over towards Medic. The German was stretched on the cushions of the window seat that looked out over the expanse of snow-bent trees. Winter light accentuated his strong jawline and sharp cheekbones beautifully, and Heavy felt his heart grow warmer. 

“Nyеt,” he answered honestly, standing and moving towards the seat, and Medic pulled his legs close to give him room to sit. “… But would not be opposed to it.” The doctor smiled dreamily, gentle eyes still gazing towards the horizon. 

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” he sighed, resting his elbow on his knee to prop his chin up. “Ve could adopt, perhaps. Or have zhe help of a surrogate.” Finally, he met Heavy’s eyes, his smile content and warm, such a stark contrast to the Siberian winter outside. “I vouldn’t mind raising a strong Siberian like yourself.”

“Or Doktor baby,” Heavy added, and the twinkle in Medic’s eyes dimmed, his smile slowly dissipating. He looked back out to the icy landscape, hugging his knee close.

“Ah… n-nein, unfortunately, zhat’s not possible, mein liebe,” the doctor smiled sadly at Heavy, idly rubbing his forearm with a wince. “… In zhe camps, zhey took all of zhe people like us and…” he lowered his eyes, looking away. “… had us sterilized. To keep us from spreading our…” he sneered. “Disease.” 

“… Am sorry,” Heavy frowned guiltily, reaching out to brush his thumb against Medic’s cheek. Medic leaned into his warm touch. His eyes were closed now, but his shoulders had begun to shake. “Didn’t mean to upset Doktor.” 

“Nein, nein, it isn’t your fault,” Medic’s voice betrayed him with a high-pitched crack. “Zhey vere monsters. Zhat’s nozhing to do vizh you.”

“Just wish I could have stopped it,” Heavy murmured. “… Wish I had met you earlier.” Medic hummed softly, opening his eyes and leaning forward to kiss the tip of Heavy’s nose, smiling again. 

“I appreciate zhe sentiment, Heavy, zhank you,” he crossed his arms on top of the giant’s knees, resting his head atop them. Snow had begun to drift gently from the grey sky, and Medic watched it in silence, eyelids fluttering sleepily. Heavy rubbed his hand up and down the doctor’s back, content to enjoy the comfortable silence. It didn’t take long for the chatty German to speak up again, but his words were soft.

“Ich liebe dich, Misha.” 

Heavy smiled affectionately, kissing his temple.

“Я тоже тебя люблю, Людвиг.”


	5. Silver Fox

His fingers carded through the hair at his temples. He frowned. Grey. It had been creeping up towards his scalp for a while now, but the past few weeks it had shot up considerably. A glum sigh escaped him. He was older than he once was, he knew that. 55 years. It was to be expected, but he still hated it. Mortality and its brutal uncaring nature was all that was on his mind these days. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t considered consulting someone who was specialized in this sort of thing. Therapists, psychiatrists, scammers, whatever they were called. 

Heavy passed behind Medic on the way to his armchair, book in hand. When he noticed the doctor standing in front of the mirror, looking depressed and miserable, he stopped to observe. He hated to see the usually upbeat and charismatic German be absorbed in the dark cloud that incessantly hovered just out of sight. But Heavy knew it existed, and did his best to quell it when he could.

He set his book aside, walked up behind Medic, and placed his large hands on the doctor’s shoulders, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Silver fox.” 

“Hm?” Medic hummed, laying a hand over one of Heavy’s and closing his eyes, if not just for the sake of not having to see the old man in the mirror. “Vas ist das?”

“Is expression,” Heavy explained, beginning to gently massage his fingers into the tense shoulders. “Means very handsome man with grey hair.” He chuckled against Medic’s scalp. “Doktor is Heavy’s silver fox.”

Heavy had never seen Medic grin so wide.


	6. Alone

Normally, a ceasefire would have been exactly what the team needed. And it was, for most of them. Though the storm had taken out the television signal, watching Soldier and Demo wrestling in the common room was entertaining in and of itself. Those who weren’t interested in the scuffle had long since retreated to their own rooms. 

Except Medic.

It wasn’t unusual for the doctor to duck inside the medbay when he wasn’t presently needed, but this was different. Any other day, he would be conducting some immoral experiment, or playing with his birds.

But now, he was cleaning like there was no tomorrow. Not that the German was an untidy man, but this went far beyond a normal tidying up. He was scrubbing every surface, rearranging every cabinet, stacking every paper. Heavy stood by the door and watched his frantic scrambling, arms crossed and small frown one of concern.

In his experience, people went on manic sprees like this to hide something… or distract themselves. By the way it looked, Medic had been at this since dawn. 

Finally, Heavy moved to stand closer, finally chancing a word. “…Is Doktor okay…?” A vial was dropped on the counter, and the doctor’s tense shoulders dropped. “… Has been acting weird.”

Medic swallowed hard, licking his dry lips before speaking. His voice was soft. “It… is my son’s birzhday today.” 

Heavy blinked in surprise. “Didn’t know Doktor had kids. What is name?”

The doctor wouldn’t look at him. He picked the vial up again and reached to place it on a shelf. “Friedrich.” The glass clinking sounded odd in the strange atmosphere. Something was wrong.

“Is nice name. How old?” 

Medic stilled, hand gripping cabinet handle like it would keep him from folding in on himself.  
“He vould have turned tventy-five today,” he whispered, lowering his eyes and retracting his hand to lean against the counter with both of them flat on the surface.

Heavy’s expression darkened. By this point, he could tell where this was going. “… Would have?” Medic cleared his throat, straightening up and holding his arms behind his back. He turned sharply on his heel to face away from the Russian. His head bowed.

“… He vasn’t even a veek old,” it was hard to hear him. “I vas… holding him, vhen he passed avay.”

“… Am sorry,” Heavy murmured, desperate to hold him but afraid he wasn’t in the right state of mind. A squeak of rubber boots as Medic turned back around. His eyes had started to dampen, but he smiled sadly.

“Ach, nein, I’m sorry,” he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I shouldn’t dump all of zhis on you.” A much larger hand caught his, holding it tight.

“Will listen if Doktor wants to talk.”

Medic squeezed back, breaths shaky and quickening.“… You are sure?”

“Da. Of course,” Heavy smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand gently.

“Vell…” Medic took a steadying breath. “Mein vife… She died during zhe birzh. I knew zhere vould be complications. She vas in ill healzh to begin vizh. But… zhey never told me vhat had happened to him zhough. To my Friedrich.”

Heavy’s brow furrowed, and he frowned. “… Became a doctor to find out.”

“Nein, I vas already a doctor, mein liebe…” his other hand swiped wetness from his eyes. “I lost my license to find out. Dissecting people far more than necessary for procedures, taking medical corpses to use them, experimenting on patients’ bodies to see if I could replicate… to see… to inspect zhe organs, to see… if i could figure it out.”

Heavy pulled Medic into a tight hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back when tears dampened his shirt. A soft, cracked sob escaped the doctor.

“It isn’t fair. I had a vife, and– and a child, and in zhe same veek… I had neizher.” His hands gripped the back of Heavy’s t-shirt. “I vas… alone.” A crash of thunder caused both men to look out the window. Heavy thought on Medic’s story, his heart aching for him. He couldn’t imagine losing his whole family.

“Life can be cruel,” he finally concluded. Medic laughed tearfully, resting his head against Heavy’s chest. The Russian kissed his hair gently, and the German began to calm down. He watched the lightning outside, giving a soft hum after a while.

“Zhat’s an understatement, mein freund.”


	7. Eternity

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

It felt like hours. 

His thoughts scattered before they came. He couldn’t focus. When he struggled to bring himself back, back away from the proverbial edge, his head would throb painfully.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

He was paralyzed. His eyes blinked tiredly. They’d been trained at the center of his desk for a long time. His hands rested limply in his lap. He was buzzing with energy, and exhausted at the same time.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

His ribcage was suddenly too small for his lungs. Breaths came shallow and quick. His vision swam.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

How long had he been here? Hours? Minutes? … Days? Time didn’t exist during these things. It might have been seconds.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

The world around him wasn’t there. His body felt electric. Heart thudded hard and fast inside. It pulsed through his entire being, lighting up his vision in streaks. Somewhere in his brain he knew he needed to calm it. 

He couldn’t. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Something hurt. With each heartbeat came a soft twinge of pain. His panic rose. But he still couldn’t move. He was stuck. Everything felt–

“Doktor.” 

– heavy.

The soft word did little to quell his nerves, but it got him to move. He dragged his eyes up to the face of the towering blurred form, shrinking back ever-so-slightly into his chair. 

“Doktor,” Heavy repeated, movements slow as he sat down in the chair opposite of the doctor. The desk was suddenly a mile long, a grand expanse separating them. “Is going to be okay.” These attacks were few and far between, but the large Russian had learned how to deal with them. He watched Medic’s chest heaving, heard his desperate gasps for breath. “Need to breathe, okay? Will calm heart. Four in, four out.” 

The words felt distant in his ears. But he heard them. Four… seconds, yes. For each breath. He remembered that. The burning suffocation subsided once the doctor made attempts to catch his breath. 

“There…” Heavy murmured, mindful to be cautious as he slowly laid his hand, palm facing upward, on the desk. “Will be over soon… Heavy promises…” He heard Medic swallow. It took a few moments before the German moved his hand to hold onto Heavy’s. He squeezed tightly, folding his other arm to lay on the table and resting his forehead against it.

“I…” his voice cracked, the words choked by his throat. “Am… I’m sorry…” Heavy rubbed his thumb softly across the doctor’s knuckles.

“Have nothing to be sorry for,” he reminded, and was relieved to see that Medic wasn’t shaking nearly as bad. There was no telling how long this episode would last, but Heavy was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed to. If that be an eternity, then so be it. 

No length of time was too long when it came to his Medic.


End file.
